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Picking up the pieces - Part 2
Previous Chapter I haven't walked very far before I double over in pain coming from my stomach. I quickly check myself to see if maybe I just imagined the stab wound healing. I lost a lot of blood back there. I very well could be imagining things. I press hard on the spot of the injury to confirm what I see and it is indeed closed. No other signs of injury anywhere else on me. I hope I am not still bleeding inside. Maybe the magic has limitations to it. Wait a second...magic? A few brief memories flash in front of my eyes. Teachers and other kids laughing at me when I tried to tell them magic was real. I remember the tears when I first learned how "magicians" pull off some of their tricks. It just couldn't be fake! I could feel it in my soul that there was some greater force out there. If they were right though and magic is just an illusion, then that means I am dead and this is either heaven or hell. Doesn't really look or feel like either, to be honest. I am snapped out of my reflections by the pain in my stomach sounding off again. I sit down in the shade of a tree by the side of the road and try to think through the situation logically. Huh...the pain isn't coming from anywhere I even had a stab wound before. If I had to guess, I would say it is hunger. I have never felt that kind of sensation this strongly before. How long has it been since I have eaten anything? I try to think, but it just won't come to me. I spy some wild raspberries a little further off the road and decide to give those a try. The first handful sends a wave of relief through my body as the pain fades away, but it is replaced by an almost uncontrollable urge to keep eating. I pick and eat the berries as fast as I can, not even stopping to brush the bugs or dirt off of them as I go. In next to no time, the bush has been stripped of all fruit and I am finally able to refocus myself on where I need to be going. The going is slow. I have so little energy to start with and the summer sun seems to be leaching some of that from me as well. I can't get rid of the coat either, since it is the only non-bloodstained thing I have to wear. Maybe I should travel by night? It would be cooler. Then again, it would also increase the chance of getting run over, if any cars happen to pass by. I stick to the shade as much as I can and just keep putting one foot in front of the other. I am not sure how far I have walked. It could have been miles or maybe I just walked a few hundred feet. I am afraid to turn around and see if the motel lounge I left is still visible. I do finally see an open business up ahead though. It looks like some kind of small gas station which serves as the social spot for the locals as well as some dirty looking bikers passing through. From the benches out front and the faded sign above them, I think it may be a bus stop as well. It has a gift shop for sure though, so maybe I can pick up a change of clothes and a bus ride the rest of the way to the city, if I am lucky. Ok, maybe not so lucky. Why do stores always assume girls should be super tiny? I wasn't expecting this to be a department store or anything, but I would expect at least one size somewhere between "micro-shirt that is going to show too much skin" and "might as well be wearing a tent" sizes. The same thing applies to all the shorts and skirts on the rack as well. I end up opting for the too short option, mostly because that is something that can be explained away as just crazy teen fashion. The tent sized stuff probably wouldn’t fit in anywhere. I pay for the items from the money in my pocket and go to the restroom to change. Seeing myself in the mirror makes me blush at how much skin is showing, but hopefully I can find something better soon and I can at least ditch the heavy coat now. I walk back to the sales counter to ask about the buses, doing my best to ignore the stares of everyone else as I go. I finally start to feel like my luck is looking up when I see a bus scheduled to stop here on its way to New York City in just a few minutes. I quickly purchase a ticket and head outside to wait, using the advertising displays to block the view of all of the eyes following me as I go. I quickly board the bus when it arrives, not wanting to feed the biker fantasies any more than I have to. Oh gods! This bus is no better! It is filled with guys on their way into the city for a night of clubbing. At least I sorta fit in with this group. I reply to their whistles and invitations with a smile and dismissive wave before finding an empty row of seats. I stare out the window as the bus begins to move and wonder what this crazy day has in store for me next.